Viper Team Seven (The Viper Team Seven Series Book 1)

by Lewis, Rykar

  “It sure didn’t take you long to look. You’re sure you searched everywhere?” Parks asked, knowing that Norse had argued about the necessity of having to look for escape routes.

  “I said, there was nothing,” Norse snapped. “And that means there’s nothing.”

  Parks nodded and double-checked everything just to make sure that nothing would go wrong. Everything appeared to be okay so he looked at the other two to see if they were ready. Their gas masks were already strapped on and a thumbs-up from both of them told him that it was time to begin.

  He took in a deep breath and aimed the grenade launcher at the top, right window. His plan was to shoot two grenades into all four windows, going clockwise, and then run to the front door double-quick to meet up with Solomon. He had gone over this in his mind many times and he knew what to do.

  Without a further thought, he pulled the trigger twice and dropped down to the bottom right window and did the same. Then he scooted to the bottom left, repeated the process, and finally moved to the top left window and emptied the last two grenades into the house.

  “Let’s go!” he yelled as he stood up and bolted for the door.

  As he ran he reached for his radio and shouted for Solomon to bust open the door. He then struggled to pull on his gas mask and grasp a concussion grenade for each hand. He heard grenades from Solomon’s team go off inside the house just as he began to come onto the driveway. He pulled the pin on his right grenade and threw it through the open door. He slid up to the threshold and without pausing, pulled the pin on his last grenade and tossed it into the smoking, chaotic house.

  “Come on guys!” he shouted as he slung his carbine from off his shoulder and into a ready position.

  Parks dove into the house and rolled on his right shoulder to what he hoped would be a safe hallway. A second later, he popped his head up and looked around for a target. When he found nothing, he jumped up and rolled into the living room, followed by his entire team who were ready to shower any moving thing with bullets.

  Parks’ eyes darted to the left where he found a man in the dining room, hunched over a table, puking violently. The terrorist pulled out a pistol and fired at Parks. Parks didn’t even bother to aim for him, he just fired off several rounds in the man’s general direction. He figured that his shots – coupled with the dozens of rounds fired from his team – would do the job.

  It obviously did because Parks saw the man’s hands fly to his neck, and then his stomach. Finally he jerked to the floor and lay motionless.

  Parks immediately searched for another terrorist, and that’s when he took sight of the man on the table. He too was armed and firing at the team. Quickly and precisely this time, Parks dispatched the man. Parks rolled on his side and scanned up the stairs and around the second story. To his utter surprise it seemed that no one else was around.

  Using an arm motion for one man to come with him, Parks tore up the stairs and kicked open the master bedroom’s door. The room was clear.

  Feeling a sense of uneasiness spread over him, he doubled back to the loft and found that room was also lifeless.

  Parks didn’t bother to take the stairs down when he decided that he needed to get back to the main floor. He swung himself over the railing in the loft and hit hard on the first floor.

  Solomon ran up with a couple guys trailing him from the back rooms and he shook his head. “The rooms are clear back there!” he yelled to Parks. Even while screaming at the top of his lungs, his voice was muffled and barely decipherable. “Which is weird because I saw more guys in here when I first busted open the door!”

  Parks didn’t need to read the clock on the wall to know that he had to get his team out of there fast. Time was running out but question marks kept on filling his mind as to where the terrorists were if not there. He knew he needed to make a quick decision. He could either take the risk of staying in the house and search for the terrorists, or he could get out and assume they were gone.

  “Search everywhere!” he ordered. “We’ve got two minutes, so let’s find them!”

  The team searched through the entire house. When the two minutes elapsed, it became obvious that the terrorists were indeed gone. With dread Parks motioned for his team to follow him.

  Parks ran out the door and stopped only to retrieve his black utility hat that he had thrown off while he was putting on his gas mask. No one waited for him. They were all running at top speed back to the van.

  Parks started to run after them, and he glanced back over his shoulder to look at the house. He couldn’t believe what had happened. In fact, he wasn’t sure what had happened. He was positive that was the sleeper’s house, but why then were there only two men inside? Where were the others Solomon had seen?

  Then he made the connection. In the heat of the battle he hadn’t really wondered why one of the men was on a table. But now he knew why, and also who he was. It had to be the terrorist with the wounded leg, and the small man standing by the table must have been trying to doctor him. That man was the sleeper agent.

  A sick feeling rose from deep inside Parks. He had just let the terrorists escape and now they were free to carry out their operation. And Parks had no idea where that would take place.

  * * *

  Siraj now had only a few concerns. He had picked up the C4 and the vehicle and was now safely heading for San Antonio. But he couldn’t help but worry about getting across the Border Patrol checkpoints that guarded every major highway. He was debating whether he should take a back country road around them, or if he should just try going through them. Both options were extremely risky and dangerous.

  He also worried about the Viper Team Seven that vun Buvka had warned him about. He knew they were following. They had to be. He and his men had managed to escape from the house just as the team had begun to storm it. But if this counterterrorism team was as good as vun Buvka had said, they could take his team out quickly if they ever found them again.

  Then, like an ocean wave, the same feeling of dread and fear swept over him. He didn’t want to die. He did want to kill Americans but he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to do that at the cost of his life. He didn’t feel like he was a coward. Nor did he carry any shame about his feelings. He just wasn’t sure he wanted to be one of those “suicide bombers” that the American news always talked about.

  Siraj knew that if he were going to back out it would have to be now. Yet he wasn’t certain how he could when seven of his partners – just as skillfully trained as he was – were in the backseats ready to stop him. Siraj didn’t want to hinder their success; he just wanted out of the deal himself. But what then? The FBI would surely be on the hunt for him, and he couldn’t hide. He couldn’t go back to the Middle East – facing the FBI would be a more pleasurable fate than that.

  The more he thought, the more sure he became of the fact that he didn’t want any part in this scheme. Somehow he had to find a way to escape without ruining the others’ plans. But as of yet, how to do so was still a mystery to him.

  * * *

  “STRONGHOLD, this is VIPER ALPHA, do you copy? Over.” Parks was on his way back to Biggs and he was radioing in to the JTTF Field Office to explain the bad news. “STRONGHOLD, this is VIPER ALPHA, do you copy? Over.”

  “VIPER ALPHA, go ahead, this is STRONGHOLD. Over,” a woman said on the other end of the radio.

  “Look, I’ve got bad news. Break,” Parks started out, wishing he didn’t have to say this. “We stormed the house and everything went fine. Break. Only one thing. Not all of the terrorists were in the house, only the sleeper and the wounded man were. Over.”

  “Oh no.”

  “STRONGHOLD, listen. Sleeper and Wounded are back in the house; we took them out. Break. We need to intercept the others before they get to their target. Break. Could you have some of your FBI guys take a look around the house and see if they can find an escape route that the terrorists would have used? Over.”

  Parks knew that the terrorists could not have
left the house any regular way without the CIA team knowing about it. It was impossible. The only way for them to have escaped without being seen was for them to have gotten out via some underground tunnel. The sleeper agent must have parked a vehicle that no one else had seen – maybe one that was stored in his garage out of sight – by the end of that tunnel so the terrorists could use it. It made perfect sense. The sleeper’s red Suburban had stayed in the driveway, making everything look normal, and then he’d given a hidden vehicle that no one would recognize to the terrorists.

  After explaining that, Parks told the woman where he was heading. “My team and I are heading to Biggs. We’re going to stay there and wait until the terrorists are found and then we’ll fly to an intercepting point. Break. Let’s hope they don’t intend to strike in El Paso.”

  The response was long in coming. “All right, VIPER ALPHA, we’ll keep you informed. Over.”

  “Sounds good, STRONGHOLD. Thanks. Out.”

  Parks dropped the radio and put both hands on the wheel.

  “Greg, I sure hope your FBI is all it’s cracked up to be,” he declared meaningfully. “Because if it’s not, we have just lost the terrorists.”

  * * *

  The FBI and El Paso Police were swarming in and around the sleeper’s house. Photos were taken, perimeters were set up, and a highly specialized team of FBI agents were literally ripping up the place trying to find the escape route. It seemed like they were trying to find a needle in a haystack. It could be anything, anywhere.

  Reporters were loving the incident. It was hitting headline news everywhere. No journalist or TV correspondent was allowed into the house or within several hundred yards but they were pressing every policeman and agent they could find for any bit of information. The answer to their questions was always the same. “If you’ll excuse me please, I’ve got work to do.”

  The truth was, no one that was asked knew what exactly had happened. That was the way it would have to stay too. Only the FBI team that was searching for the escape route knew what had happened, and their knowledge was limited.

  Special Agent-in-Charge Somers had just arrived at the site and was looking over the bodies when the lead agent of the search team came up to him.

  “Mr. Somers, can I have a word with you?” the man asked in a surprisingly low and calm voice.

  “Yeah. Where do I need to go?”

  The man turned around and headed down the hall, then walked into a room on the left side that looked like a laundry room.

  “Mr. Somers, we wanted you to see how bizarre this was. It was a one-in-a-million find.”

  Somers looked and saw that four side-by-side tiles were ripped out of the floor by the washing machine. A dark, narrow, escape tunnel loomed right in front of his eyes.

  “It probably gets larger after you squeeze through the entrance,” Somers suggested. “In order to know whether it does or not, you’re going to have to go in.”

  The agent looked back at Somers and then to his team. “Let’s go guys,” he said, dread filling his voice. “I’ll lead.”

  The agent went down, feet first. When he was down about ten feet the tunnel cut straight across and opened up to about eight feet high and at least two feet wide. Carbine in one hand and flashlight in the other, the agent crept along, scanning the walls for any possible offshoot tunnel that the terrorists might have used.

  The tunnel snaked around and after a while, it shot straight up again. Standing on one of his men’s shoulders, carbine slung over his shoulder and flashlight shoved in his belt, the agent squirmed as high as he could go. But it wasn’t high enough. He kicked off from the shoulders and jimmied his way up by pushing against the sides of the tunnel. At last his head hit something hard and he wedged himself in so he could have a free hand to hold the flashlight while shining it on the unknown object.

  When the light hit the object, he noticed that it looked like some kind of metal lid. When he pushed upward on it, it didn’t budge. Perplexed, he crawled higher up and pushed against the lid with all his might. It gave way slowly and he managed to shove it aside. He now had a clear path out of the tunnel.

  He turned off his light, wiggled out of the tunnel, and rolled right until he was behind an unknown object that he hoped would protect him. Then he readied his carbine and flicked on the flashlight. It looked like he was in a building of some kind. It was rather run down and there was only one door and window. The cement flooring was cracked and chipped, and when the agent felt the walls, they appeared to be wooden.

  After completely scanning the building with his light, he crawled over and poked his head down the tunnel to let the others know that it was safe. One by one his team came up and joined him.

  “I’ll go outside and see where we are,” he offered in a low voice. “You guys stay here and cover me just in case.”

  The agent kicked open the door and cautiously looked out. Confident that nobody was outside, he stepped out and found he was in a neighborhood only a block down from where the sleeper’s house was located.

  * * *

  Stressed, Somers was back at the JTTF Field Office pacing in his office. He had notified all of the border checkpoints surrounding El Paso to look for any men that matched the given description of the terrorists. With it, he had sent the one picture of the terrorist that had been obtained by the PMI. Nothing had come in yet.

  He had ordered his agents to check with all of the surrounding neighbors to see if any of them had seen anyone out of the ordinary, or any unusual vehicle around. So far nothing had turned up that proved to be useful.

  Somers’ desk phone began ringing and he picked it up immediately. “Somers. Go,” he said urgently.

  “Mr. Somers, this is Kirk Jordan, the lead agent of the FBI team that’s been questioning the neighbors around the escape tunnel. Do you remember?”

  “Yeah, yeah, go on.”

  “Well, we found someone who said he saw an unusual vehicle parked close by his house. He didn’t see anyone in it for a while, then he said that he heard its engine start. He looked out the window and saw several guys in it. Apparently the vehicle headed east.”

  “What did he describe it as?”

  “Dark blue, Yukon XL, brand new.”

  “License plate number?” Somers asked hopefully.

  “Mr. Somers, this man doesn’t work for the FBI. He just happened to see the vehicle, he didn’t write the plate number down. We’re fortunate that he remembered as much as he did.”

  “Okay, great work. And good job on finding that escape tunnel. Keep searching for more info and keep me notified. Thanks a lot.”

  Somers slammed the phone down, then picked it up again and dialed the NJTTF. This was a national crisis and things needed to happen that he didn’t have the authority to order. So he’d just put it off on the NJTTF. He knew they’d handle it well.

  36

  Thursday, March 20th – 2000 hours

  Biggs Army Airfield

  The U.S. Border Patrol had alerted all of its checkpoints. They had been told to look for a newer, dark blue, Yukon XL, heading out of El Paso. The Border Patrol checkpoints guarded every major road that led out of the city, and the only way for the terrorists to dodge those would be to take back country roads. Just to be safe, the FBI had several vehicles patrolling on those major roads, for the express purpose of spotting the terrorists’ vehicle. It seemed like the terrorists’ window of opportunity was closing rapidly, but still, no one was taking chances.

  Parks had already loaded all of his team’s equipment into an Army Blackhawk helicopter, and he was ready to go wherever, whenever. The suspense of waiting was killing him though. He was glued to his cell phone. Reports were streaming in constantly, and he couldn’t wait until someone gave him the “go” sign.

  “Hey KP, everyone’s here,” Marler said.

  Parks snapped his head up and ended his phone call. “Good. Let’s get to planning then. We’ve got a lot to do.”

  The team gathered beside the
Blackhawk and Parks began to explain his simple, yet hopefully solid, plan.

  “What we’re going to do is break into two teams – one on the right side of the road and one on the left,” he started. “Solomon, Marler, Lee, and Samuels will be the snipers. You guys will be on the left side of the road. Solomon, I want you to lead them. You will be the point of contact. Got it?”

  Solomon nodded.

  “My team will consist of Norse, Corley, and myself. We will be positioned on the right side of the road. Solomon, your team’s job is to take out the driver, and as many passengers as possible. My team’s job is to shoot rockets from SMAWs into the vehicle to try and set off the C4. Now, Solomon will fire the first shot only after the terrorists blow their tires on the tire strip we’ll have laid out. After that, it’s fire at will. We cannot let these guys escape. Again, my Commander’s Intent: take out the terrorists. Any questions?”

  “Uh yeah,” Solomon spoke up. “Are we setting up a one-way, one-lane tire strip, or are we using a two-way, two-lane?”

  “I’ve got an Enforcer type. It’s a two-way, two-lane that is remotely operated to where it can put the spikes up and down on command. We’ll post a guard that will flip the switch for the spikes to go up whenever the terrorists get close enough. Anyone else?”

  “When we blow up the C4, what’s keeping us from getting blown up too?” Norse pointed out. “There’s a good chance of that you know.”

  “We’ll be far enough away not to be affected,” Parks explained.

  “And if traffic’s heavy what will we do about the tire strip?” Solomon asked shyly.

  “If traffic’s heavy, no tire strip. But let’s pray there’s no traffic around.”

  More questions were asked as the team went over as many “what ifs” as they could think of while they waited for the green light to move into part B of Operation FIRST FIGHT.

  * * *

  Siraj looked at his map and frowned. He knew there was supposed to be a dirt road that split off from the main highway he was now on, but as of yet he couldn’t find it. He realized that he was approaching the checkpoint rapidly, and he was hoping for all he was worth that he would find his exit before he came upon it.